Sunday Ride on the Harley

This past weekend, DH and I decided we needed to get away. We've both been working nonstop and thought a little time together would be appropriate. I write romance, I think romance, but sometimes life gets in the way and it's difficult to live romance. Anyway, we planned an outing on the Harley, something we haven't done in two years. We got up early Sunday morning for our jaunt. I found DH in the garage looking over the map and planning our route. He'd serviced the bike, put the seat on the back for me and got out the helmets.

	Going 60 mph or more on a motorcycle allows you to use all your senses. Viewing the country in the manner makes you feel as if you are part of the landscape, one with nature. Imagine sitting in front of a box fan that's going full blast then triple that sensation. The wind gushing across your face and arms carries a force that pelts you with pure energy. The vibration of horsepower between your thighs stimulates your sensory perception even more. Scents invade your nostrils with undiluted strength. Sounds are muted by the whir of the engine and the whoosh of the wind, but if you concentrate, you can hear the chorus of katydids.

But even more pronouced is the visual scenery. There are no glares on the windows to obstruct your view. The roads curved and dipped between a smorgusboard of trees. Carlos is mainly cow country as it's too hilly for farming. Morning glories crowned the barbed wire fences with an array of violet and pink. We passed a couple who couldn't resist pulling their bike to the side to partake in a little afternoon smooching. DH couldn't resiste honking at them. Ah, young love. Traveling through Richardswas like entering a time warp. I felt as if I were on the set for a western film. The buildings looked as if they could have been built in the 1850's. I made DH stop so I could snap a picture.
On the outskirts of Richards, the foliage changed. Within minutes, we'd found a wall of pines that reached for the skies. We'd entered the edge of Sam Houston National Forest. En route, other bikers enjoyed the same path. We greeted each rider with the universal signal, a slight movement of the right hand stretched out to the side. The tunnel of pines stretched out for miles. The fresh odors titillated my senses. Somewhere along the way, a strong floral scent filled the air and though I could see no flowers among the thick pines, it smelled similar to honeysuckle. I even detected the delicate aroma of gardenia at some point in our journey.

Once we exited the trail of pines, we entered Montgomery and headed for Conroe. Once we hit Conroe, the sights and sounds changed to reflect the feeling of a large city. There, we checked out the old marina where we used to dock our sailboat. It just wasn't the same as before. They had added a few new things, but it was still well kept and brought back a wealth of memories.
From there, we visited old haunts then decided it was time for lunch. So many choices.

We ended up eating at a restaurant on the water that didn't look like much from the outside, but had a look of local flavor on the inside. I chowed down on beer battered fish, salad and fries while DH enjoyed a heaping plate of nachos. After filling our tummies, it was time to hit the road again. By now the sun bore down in full force, but the stiff wind pillowed the heat, making it a comfortable ride home. All in all, we were gone four hours.